The Untold Stories

I read the “Confessions of a Shopaholic” by Sophie Kinsella and I had tears streaming down my eyes. For once, here was someone who knew exactly how it felt to be a shopaholic. The adrenaline rush of buying that gleamy Coach Handbag and Hermes scarf and walking down the road head lead high as the latest edition Tissot watch shone on my wrist and that shimmering limited edition dress from Manish Malhotra accentuated my figure. Oh the love of shopping. The best antidote for a depressing day and the most wonderful way to multiply your joy by splurging your big fat bonus.

Mumma tells me when I was a little girl I used to insist on a new water bottle and the fancy pencil caps daily. I found out innovative ways of asking her to buy me just one more.I grew up and my longing for all things new and shiny grew. As I was a studious kid, I got through the best colleges and landed up a plum job.

I love my job but what I love the most is the ability to use that Amex generously to pamper myself. With the advent of online shopping and these crazy EORS (End of Reason sale) that they keep having to entice shopaholics like me, what do you expect me to do? You should be proud that I am saving so much by buying a Guess watch at 60% discount. Call it smart shopping.

(Pintrest)

My wardrobe and shoe rack are overflowing with clothes, shoes, handbags and accessories but hey I prefer a overfull house anyway than an empty one. I can imagine my great grandchildren sifting through my stuff and admiring my fine taste.

But heck, here I am lying in my coffin suddenly one day. Who had thought a 80% discount on Prada would get me so excited that I end up with a heart attack which proves fatal.

I watch my husband and kids as they go through my stuff. They can’t see me. “Be careful that’s antique” I yell but they can’t hear me. I can see their tear stricken faces but hang on whats that. Looks like they are a bit upset, maybe angry, oh no they are really angry. I can see my hubby’s nostrils flared up and Tom my cherubic boy, his cheeks have turned red and he squints his eyes. “This is madness. What the hell are we going to do with all her stuff? Whoever buys so many things.”

They decided to take a break and then decide what to do with my stuff.

I looked with tearful eyes. These were not just the possessions of a shopaholic, but there were so many memories associated with them. The first formal coat from Annabelle which I had worn to my first job interview. That little back dress I wore when John and I went on our first date and my first Luis Vuitton handbag which I had gifted myself when I got promoted. But they wouldn’t know, they wouldn’t care.

I shed tears and walked away.

The next day when I visited my room I was shocked to see it empty. Where was my stuff? Did they burn it down? I saw someone pick up a box and shove it in a truck and I curiously followed.

The truck took a detour and moved towards the famous Amnesty Hall. I peered inside and my eyes popped out in awe. There was a fashion show going on. There was my son, so tall and handsome as he strutted around in my white Chanel gown, clutching my Miu Miu tote and the stilettos from Gucci. He looked so handsome. And behind him were a bunch of young men, all wearing my clothes and accessories proudly walking the ramp.

I saw a board displayed behind which said “Gender Fluidity- lets get rid of the labels”

(Image source https://www.yahoo.com)

I looked on proudly, my hoarding over the years had me a bit worried at times as I do confess that I bought one too many but look at this! Isn’t this truly amazing? My clothes worn by young boys as they break stereotypes and embrace gender neutral fashion. I have just started a new revolution. This is the the best moment if my life (oops I should say after life)

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Published by Akshata Ram

Chartered Accountant, Story Teller, Dreamer, Voracious Reader, Blogger, Mommy to a little munchkin, Shopaholic, Day Dreamer.Passionate about my career in the corporate world and aspire to break the glass ceiling, at the same time nurture my passion for writing. My niche area is short stories, I also write on parenting, sexism, life's experiences, micro blogs and flash fiction. I have won the best Parenting blog post at mycity4kids.com the largest parenting website in India, 4 times and several of my posts have been published in the #MostPopular category on this site garnering millions of views. I also write on Bonobology, Rivo Kids, Women's Web and Youth Ki Awaaz. I was chosen as one of the top 10 Indian women bloggers to be followed by Women's Web in 2017. Contact me at akshata.ram@gmail.com
View all posts by Akshata Ram

You had me in splits. Nice take. I remember one aunty who even though knew that she was in her last stage, would shop like anything. When she died, we opened up cupboards of sarees which we didn’t know what to do. Ultimately we distributed among relatives, friends and old age homes.

I was actually excited to find that you are participating in this. Brilliant story Akshata. I am sure by now you know that I am going to read every single post of yours. I have started fangirling over your write-ups now 🙂

Good one! Personally I can’t understand the urge to buy so much stuff. But, it will be a daunting task for the people left behind to sort thru their stuff. Best way would be distribute them all to needy or something.

I am a shopaholic too and buying new things makes me feel good! And shouldn’t we all do things that make us feel god and happy? I am selfish that way!!
But I do make it a point to clean my wardrobe of things that I dont use to avoid clutter.

Brilliant take on the prompt . I was completely stuck and couldn’t think of effectively using it without any reference to alcohol . Clever use of shopping as an addiction and how one too many led to an excess that finally killed your heroine . While I am not a great shopper I enjoy shopping and absolutely loved the movie and the book .

You are one master storyteller Akshata. You matched up your narrative to the author’s style in the Shopoholic book or maybe even better. I was hooked till the end and that ‘Gender fluidity’ concept bowled me over.

This was a fun narrative, Akshata. Loved the way you’ve brought the story to the fore from the dead woman’s POV. My only feedback is that the end feels a little too forced when compared to the rest of the story. And the son character changes 180 degrees almost overnight. Just my 2 cents.

Hahahaha..Akshata! That ending was totally unexpected. Gender fluidity…lol…its like the more things change, the more they remain the same. Check the outfits,hairstyles and makeup of our maharajas. They´d put the maharanis to shame…;) Loved it…fun, imaginative and unexpected 🙂